


I like you

by hazelandglasz



Category: Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Everyone Is Alive, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Human Derek Hale, M/M, Nerd Derek, Smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1346542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Fangirl / Teen Wolf Crossover, suggested by Framby</p>
            </blockquote>





	I like you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [framby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/framby/gifts).



Derek wanted to share a college room with his sister.  
They always shared a room, it felt only natural to do so as they left their parents’ house, didn’t it?  
But nooo, Laura had to insist on them being independent, on “cutting the umbilical cord”, even though Derek doesn’t know what it means exactly.  
Just because he’s not very social and relies on her to beta read his stories before he posts them on social websites.

What ? He’s a Gleek, so what?

And now, Derek has to settle down in a crappy room with some stranger who might just torment him for being socially incompetent, or just might snore, or smell, or … eurgh, hate Glee.  
Derek isn’t sure which one is worse, to be honest.

There was a boy in his room.

That was to be expected, of course, but something in the boy’s attitude screams “frat boy” more than anything.  
“You must be Derek,” he says with a crooked smile, passing his hand in his buzz cut before holding it up for Derek to shake.  
Derek hums noncommittally, ignoring the offered hand (he’s holding a box of his stuff, what else can he do?).  
“I can help you, if you want. We’re just about done here,” the boy continues, and Derek has several things to proceed.

One, he doesn’t need anybody’s help.

Second, who’s we?

Three, are strangers supposed to be that helpful or has he find himself a sociopath?

Three sounds like the most probable option.

Meanwhile, Sociopathically nice boy keeps talking. “ … and we can go for burgers. I know this place, burgers big, bigger than …”. At that he interrupts himself and picks up Derek’s forearm.  
“Come on, big guy, let’s see that fist,” he says, pushing Derek’s hand closed.  
More out of frustration than anything, Derek closes his hand into a fist and raises one eyebrow at that boy who doesn’t know anything about boundaries.  
“Ok, no bigger than your first then,” he says with a smile, his fingers brushing Derek’s knuckles gently and that is so inappropriate that Derek puts his hand under his box, safely hidden from long, gentle fingers.

“Scott?” Derek asks, if only to silence the boy. If he was going to share a room with him for the foreseeable future, he doesn’t want to antagonize him, he really doesn’t, but the guy just. Doesn’t. Stop. Talking.

“He wishes,” the boy laughs, looking over Derek’s shoulder and waving like a lunatic. “Scott!” he calls and Derek follows his gaze.  
A tallish boy is approaching, a beaming smile on his face - and a slightly uneven jaw, but that’s not particularly relevant to his ability to be a good roommate.  
“Scott, look,” the other boy says enthusiastically, “your roommate his here!”  
Scott approaches them with a bag filled to the brim with candies in his arms.  
“Derek, this is Scott,” the Boy introduces them and Scott turns his blinding smile to Derek - no, seriously, does the two ever stop smiling?  
Just his luck : Derek has been burdened with two enthusiastic puppies who are going to party all the time.  
“I took this side of the room,” Scott says without preamble, dropping the bag on the bed on the left of the roo. “I hope you don’t mind?” he adds, looking worried - more worried than the situation really calls for.  
“I don’t mind,” Derek replies softly, putting his box on what is his bed now, and finally letting og of his computer.  
“You coming with us?” Scott asks as they start leaving, and his friend smiles at Derek.

Derek shakes his head. “Nah, my sister is supposed to arrive soon,” he says, looking down at his shoes.  
“Suit yourself,” his roommate replies with a smile and walks away, his friend in tow - the lanky boy waves at Derek as they leave him alone.

Oh boy, he’s in for a rough year, isn’t he?  
And Laura can go and fuck herself and “meet strangers, Derek, that’s the whole point of college.”

\---

All in all, Scott isn’t so hard to live with.  
The boy is full of energy, that’s for sure, but he’s contagious in his enthusiasm, and after a couple of months, Derek finds himself eating dinner with him and his best friend, the chatty boy from that first day, and sometimes also with his girlfriend, who is sweet and quiet.  
Derek likes Allison, even if she is not exactly his type, as he constantly repeats to a frowning Scott who worries about Derek stealing his girl away.  
No, if Scott had to worry about Derek stealing someone from his entourage away, it’s the best friend.  
Przezyslaw, or, as he prefers to be called, Stiles, has slowly but surely made his way into Derek’s life and into his heart.  
He’s everywhere : stealing Derek’s 3xChocolate Snickers, borrowing his Glee albums and reading his fanfics over his shoulder while Derek is writing.  
Breathing on Derek’s neck and giggling behind him when Derek decides to let his Klaine have some fun, gasping when he lets the angst out, his long fingers clutching Derek’s shoulders all along …  
Derek is losing his mind, in the best way possible.

Until one night Scott stays at Allison’s place, and Stiles is not his usual bubbly - if noisy - self, and Derek wants to make him feel better, even though he doesn’t know why his friend is down.  
Until Stiles tells him that it’s his mother’s death anniversary, and Derek awkwardly offers him to watch his favorite episode of Glee on his laptop, under his cover.  
“Under your fluffy cover?” Stiles asks, his voice small and Derek pulls his fluffiest cover from his closet and wraps it around them as he starts the file on his laptop between them.  
For a fucktitude of reasons, “Original Songs” is his favorite episode - the fact that Kurt and Blaine got together, canonically, does contribute greatly to it - and he mouths Blaine’s speech when he feels Stiles’ hand on his between them.  
Derek turns his head to look at Stiles, only for the other boy to slowly, softly, so soft Derek’s heart is stutteringly, nudge his nose against his, and their mouths fall together, almost naturally, already soft and open.  
Just like the characters on the screen kiss and move together, Derek follows Stiles’ silent directions, their tongues meeting in a soft, slow dance.  
He doesn’t know if he wants to close his eyes to let his other senses take over, or if he wants to keep them opened to look at Stiles from so close.  
In the end he has to close his eyes because, a- being so close to Stiles makes him cross eyed and b- it’s too much sensation as it is.

Derek couldn’t tell you if they fell asleep kissing or if he fell asleep first - all that he knows and cares about is that Stiles’ arms are still around him when they wake up the next morning.

\---

“More.”  
Derek looks up from Stiles’ lap with a frown.  
“There isn’t more,” he says softly, cut by a yawn, “we’ve watched all of it.”  
Stiles scoots closer to Derek. “Then let’s watch interviews - bloopers - panels at different cons. I don’t care,” he says with a huffed laugh, “you’re just … You’re like a tiger who loves Brahms - as long as Glee is involved, you let me touch you.”  
And it is true : Derek always feels skittish when Stiles starts touching him under his shirts, but if there is something even remotely related to his show - and yes, by now, what with all the meta he’s writing and the fics he has produced for the fandom, the Fox show is his - Derek forgets to be self-conscious.  
Derek almost throws his laptop to the ground and turns to face Stiles. “No,” he says, voice low enough to be called a growl, “I don’t want to be distracted. I want to touch you back,” he adds, voice softer and he can feel his face turning hot and red.  
Stiles’ eyes turn wide and his breathing is quickening as Derek tentatively sets both hands on his flannel shirt.  
“O-okay,” he stutters, trying to be as immobile as possible.  
Derek focuses on his fingertips. Feeling the softened cotton of the shirt, feeling it slide against the shirt Stiles always wears underneath (a part of Derek’s brain laughs about his fascination for boys who have a layering obsession), feeling Stiles underneath it, his muscles and skin, the ridge of his ribs. His heart beats against Derek’s palm, like he can contain it, like Derek owns it in this moment …  
“I really like you,” Stiles whispers.  
Derek keeps his eyes on Stiles’ chest. “I really like you too.”  
“Say it again.”  
Derek lets out a soft giggle - he never giggled before Stiles. “I really like you, Przezyslaw Stiles Stilinski.”  
He feels Stiles’ hands on his waist, pulling him closer, and his mouth close to his ear.  
“Say it again,” he breathes and Derek lets his body shiver at the sensation.  
“I like you,” he repeats, nosing his way up Stiles’ jaw. “I like you like this,” he continues, brushing the tip of his fingers on the stubble there, “I like you.”  
One hand leaves his waist to cup the back of his neck. “Derek …”  
“Stiles …,” he simply replies, kissing Stiles’ chin and then moves to the tip of his nose, to the crease between Stiles’ closed eyes, before returning his lips to the hinge of Stiles’ jaw.  
As he presses an opened kiss there, Stiles arches his neck, and it’s better than anything that Derek could have imagined.

He pulls away to looks at his handiwork and Stiles is breathing heavily.  
“Derek, are you going to jump if I try to kiss you now?” Stiles asks and Derek shakes his head.  
“Are you going to panic?” Stiles insists, and again, Derek shakes his head in reply.  
“I like you,” he whispers, and Stiles’ hand pushes him forward.

\---

That night, it starts like another journey of Stiles’ hands underneath Derek’s shirt, but it quickly evolves.  
“Take your shirt off,” Stiles mutters against Derek’s cheek.  
“Why? I thought you liked this shirt,” Derek replies cheekily, wriggling under Stiles’ body.  
“ I love your shirt,” Stiles replies seriously, pushing the garment up Derek’s chest nonetheless, “I especially love the moment you take it off.”  
Derek rolls his eyes but pulls it off, pushing his hair out of his face in the process, and Stiles’ hands are framing his face before he even manages to shake the shirt off his wrist.  
“Ah, there you are,” his boyfriend says softly. “I can finally see you properly.”  
“Like you’ve been looking for me forever?” Derek teases, knowing that he has turned Stiles into a Gleek - at the very least into a Klainer - but Stiles’ look is dead serious.  
“I have been looking for you forever,” Stiles says softly, rubbing their noses together and Derek brings his hands up to the collar of Stiles’ uptenth flannel shirt.  
“How many of those do you own?” he asks nonchalantly, noting how Stiles’ inhales more deeply as he reaches for the first button.  
That button is suddenly very offensive to Derek’s feelings - it has to go.  
As well as all its brothers down Stiles’ chest. But Stiles doesn’t let him punish all the ivory circles, yanking the shirt off after the third button is opened.  
Derek looks down at his chest like he’s never seen anything like it before. Oh, he has been to the swimming pool, and he also has a roommate who doesn’t know how to plan for the shower, but this is different.  
This is for him, for his eyes only - or so it seems.   
“You look thinner with your clothes on,” Derek says - really, the first thing that pops in his mind, and Stiles laughs, smacking his shoulder lightly.   
“Is that a compliment?” Stiles teases, sitting more comfortably on Derek’s lap, and his arousal is unmistakable, before leaning forward, reaching for a kiss.  
But Derek leans back on the bed to look up at him.  
It’s not that Stiles is overly muscular, like Boyd or Peter. But he’s lean and strong, muscles carving around his shoulders, over his arms, across his chest.   
Derek kind of wants to rewrite all of his fics where he described Kurt or Blaine touching the other for the first time.  
It has always felt like something that had to be done quickly, but now that he’s in the situation himself, the last thing he wants is for it to be over too soon.  
Sitting up, but keeping an hand on Stiles’ hip, Derek brings their chests in contact.  
It’s fire and silk, softness and strength, everything he stayed away from and everything he’s always wanted.  
His lips find Stiles’ clavicle and Derek kisses and licks and noses his way up and down the skin covering the bone.  
Stiles’ hands are on his back, one cupping the back of his head while the other roams its way over his shoulder blade.  
“You’re beautiful,” Derek says against the skin, where a real-life “connect the dots” pattern is waiting for his attention, and he feels Stiles’ snort before he hears it.  
“That’s my line,” Stiles says, pressing a kiss to his temple and bringing his crotch against Derek’s, their denim covered erections rubbing against each other. The friction makes them both sigh, and Derek nuzzles Stiles’ neck just as he tentatively rolls his hips up.  
“Don’t argue with me,” he replies between two pants as he can feel his orgasm crashing through him like a tsunami - and boy, he can’t even bring himself to be concerned about coming too soon, not with the way Stiles is whimpering against him, his own hips circling on top of him erratically - “you are beautiful, Stiles.”


End file.
